


turbulent rivers

by poeticaid



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rivers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticaid/pseuds/poeticaid
Summary: Someone opens the door, and Momota looks to see Akamatsu holding a drunk Amami by the shoulders. The man was half-asleep already, but his eyes lands on Momota and he smiles brightly. He stumbles out of the blonde girl's arms and lands on the bed, grinning at the purple haired boy. His breath reeked of alchohol, but that was normal for Momota, it seems."Your eyes are beautiful, you know?", Amami breathes, looking at him with that mesmerized look. Amami drunk is the only time he's ever get to show his true emotions, but the former spaceman did not mind. "It's like, the vast space we live in. It's so pretty, even the stars can't compete to you. But arivercan."





	turbulent rivers

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the world's still spinning around, we don't know why](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611054) by [cosmicpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet). 



> merry late Christmas!!!  
> i still have writer's block :)

Momota had died, once.

It was in the show, in the game, _in the past._ But it manages to come crawling back to him, like waves hitting the shores, back and forth, back and forth. He had not died to murder- he is the murderer, he keeps telling himself- he had not died from the execution, that fucking rocket had tortured him by drilling underground through multitudnous layers, and finally coming out and into the space he loves so much, no.

He died from his illness, something that had become problematic for him ever since Shinguji's (fictional) death in Danganronpa. The way he had coughed up blood, and trying to conceal it from his classmates, who were more focused of escaping the school -not like he was trying as well- and trying to monitor- or trust, he guesses- the others into not killing their classmates. Friends. Enemies.

His last moments was an ideal for other people to join Danganronpa, to get a chance of becoming a hero they had always wanted themselves to be, to sacrifice themselves to others. He remembers the smile that had curved up his lips, the way he had coughed up his blood, knowing that he could not hide it anymore.

When he had woken up from the simulation, he was a fragment of his old self. His eyes had squinted due to the bright light illuminating the room he was lying on. He felt betrayed. He felt like he didn't need this opportune second chance at life these fuckers had given him. He was weak. In fear. Trying to cope with the sudden changes, and trying to cope with his past life looming above him. Fuck Team Danganronpa.

Well, Momota's going to try and die again. For real, this time.

It was a cold night, just hitting December. The stars twinkle in the sky, forever stuck to one spot. At least they know how to create constellations, using just their lack of movement and all. A tall purple-haired man stands near the railings of an old, metal bridge. The breeze was cold, always cold in the night, and in the morning, it was warm as boiled water.

The old bridge was rickety, supported by old, rotting ropes that had been holding these since the old days. It makes it dangerous, so unstable, like it could break with just one cut of the ropes. It can crash everything down, and he won't object. Underneath it is a powerful, turbulent current, and he can feel the rushing current or stream of water. He wants to die. Quickly.

Ever since Danganronpa ended, Momota still felt like his soul will never be set free. Like he needed death. It was salvation, savory. Everything he had ever dreamt it to be. He looks down to the waters, the river less visible during the night, but he can make out the lines of the flowing current. He wonders why he wants to die, even though he's had the perfect life. But in the end, he was not satisfied with living through it all.

Momota remembers Akamatsu's gentle smile, looking down at him with a soft look in her eyes, and her melodic voice and professional hands. An optimist, like him, trying to cope by saying everything was fine (everything was not fine) we'll be okay (we'll never be okay). He loves her, he really does, and he considers it selfish to see that he wastes her time with his unnecessary banter and rants.

And there was Amami, that loveable bastard. He acts as if nothing has happened. His eyes were filled of hurt and exhaustion, and he usually calls Momota for drinks when he feels his mind is trying to resurface his memories. Momota wonders why Amami didn't want to remember, and Amami wonders why Momota wants to remember.

He crushes the cigarette stick he had been smoking on for the previous minute with his bare hands. Momota climbs up on the bridge's railing, looking at the river. His jacket blew like a cape, no thanks to the winter winds trying to push him back, to make him fall back to the bridge as if they were the gods trying to reach out to him, saving him from his inevitable fate. But he still stands, looking at the night sky in such a defiant manner, as if they had done him wrong.

Then his least favorite feeling surges inside of him: Guilt.

Why is he feeling guilt? After all this time, after bearing with Danganronpa in his mind a few months after everything has ended, he had gotten together with Akamatsu and Amami, who had been trying to cope with themselves. He puts a mental image in his mind: Akamatsu, the sweetheart she is, cooking dinner for them and humming a tune for herself. Amami, trying to write while drinking his problems away.

Momota sighs to himself, disliking the fact that these mental images are destroying his desire to rid himself in this vile world once and for all. What is this? Guilt being the last thing he feels before his death?

And then he jumps into the cold, saltwater below, trying to sink and drown into the bottom of the river. It hurts, especially when landing on his feet, apparently. He can feel its current, sweeping at him, trying to tear him apart, trying to take him downstream. And he loves the feeling, loves the feeling that his body will be torn apart by the monstrous river current. They will never find his body. His death won't mean anything to the world like it was in Danganronpa. And he was fine with that.

As water, saltwater, fills his lungs, his eyelids droop to a close, the pain he feels in his body numb, but it fills him with ecstasy, at the thought of dying. Not like a martyr everyone would remember, but a nobody only the people who remember him will mourn him. He doesn't see anything wrong with that, as his body finally shuts down, and his eyes drift to a close.

Strangely, his heart still beats in an attempt at trying to keep him alive. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Momota's eyelids see white. Light was all around him, and he doesn't like that. Was he in heaven or in some sort of afterlife? But are there comfortable, soft, warm beds in the heaven above, or are these clouds? Then he hears people talking. _No._ He can't be alive, it was an all-proof plan.

Curiousity overtook him as he opens one eye to the outside world, flinching a bit when light hits him directly in his peripheral line of vision. He sees a heart monitor close to him, and then he can feel his heart beating slightly faster than before.

He was in a fucking hospital. Fuck. Shit. Goddamn it.

"Momota?", he hears the worried voice of Akamatsu. "Are you waking up? Are you all right? Can you say something?"

"I think it's just a trick of light, Kaede", Amami replies, but Momota doesn't miss that hopeful tone in his voice. "No way is he waking up after that whole ordeal-"

Momota closes then reopens his eyes, looking at his beguiled lovers, looking at him with their pink and green eyes. He wants to find that river again and jump in it than being under his lovers' scrutinizing gazes. Akamatsu's face scream that she wants to hug and comfort him, whisper soothing voices in his ear. But her eyes were screaming _anger_. And Momota knows he deserves Akamatsu's cold but hurtful shoulder. Amami's green eyes were calculating, and he was glaring down at him. Amami, secretive as he was in the game, is good at hiding his emotions so well. He was crossing his arms, glaring down at him like he's done something wrong.

Momota wants to speak, but his throat or lungs or whatever was not cooperating with them, and he only gets a half-assed groan from his mouth. And he realize when he starts to wake, pain shoots up from over his legs like shotguns firing bullets at their target. His legs feel stiff, as if they were on casts (which they are).

"Don't move, you twat", Amami says, coldness dripping over his voice. Momota was used to his insults. In fact, he has to listen to them every time Amami goes for a drink to make the alchohol disintegrate the memories in his brain to ashes. Then his eys seem to soften, and so does the glare. "You're hurting yourself more."

_What if I want to hurt myself just a little more?_ Momota wants to say, but follows Amami's command, since he's never seen him so distressed like this. The only one who ever gets distressed was Akamatsu, whenever their jobs weren't paying enough rent, or whenever she remembers her death. Momota was the one who helps the most while Amami goes out to have a few more drinks.

"Have you gone mad?", Akamatsu says in an unreadable tone, but Momota concludes it's between sadness and anger, or both, maybe. "Jumping into a river with a turbulent and fast current- do you want to kill yourself?!"

"Maybe he does", Amami quips, as if discussing the topic was natural for them all. Well, it was actually natural, Momota couldn't lie. "Maybe he actually wants to suffocate in the waters while its currents mangle their bodies. I mean, I would actually try killing myself for the jist-"

"Amami, you're not helping!", Akamatsu shouts, glaring at Amami who just rolls his eyes but glances anywhere but Akamatsu and Momota. "I don't want both of you to die."

Amami looks over his shoulder, but looks away, and Momota knows that it's out of guilt. The boy loves dropping out hints here and there that he cares, and that he always will. Momota would always ask him why he wasn't honest about his feelings, and the green-haired man would always brush off his concern.

"Well, Momota seems to like killing himself!", Amami shoots back.

It must be a slow day, because when they were trying to kill time, they would argue back and forth, back and forth. Their apartment has thin walls, so their arguments would always be overheard by the others residing in the building. He had always been a part of their arguments, but now, witnessing and listening to their argument in his hospital bed, he feels like a distressed man hearing their arguments from the paper thin walls of their apartment.

"Don't be so dense, Akamatsu", Amami scolds, still going on about their argument. Momota doesn't even know if they're talking about Momota's suicide attempt anymore. "You should've heard the log entries that were littered in Momota's room!"

_Wait._ Momota looks at Amami with a look of confusion and hurt in his face. He requested them both to stay out of his room. How could Amami invade his privacy? Momota was spluttering now, trying to get Amami's attention, but he was too fixated on arguing with Akamatsu to even look at Momota's pained expression. The man was now silently questioning if he could trust his lovers again.

"I-if y-you-", he tries to form a coherent sentence, but he coughs loudly, addressing Amami and Akamatsu, whose eyes were now focusing on him. He was relieved that his sorry excuse of a voice stops them from arguing, but he does not like the attention he receaives, especially when he looks really weak.

"Yes, Momota?", Akamatsu asks, prompting him to continue. Amami sighs tiredly, rolling his eyes.

"Don't try to speak, Momota", Amami says. "The doctor said that you inhaled a lot of saltwater from that river. Meaning that it kinda damaged your lungs and vocal cords 'r something."

Momota sighs to himself, knowing that he wasn't even going to win an argument with Amami. The man has been always the winner of most arguments. Even Momota's debates with Akamatsu can't come to a tenth to the outcomes of his and Amami's arguments. But he still loves him, for some reason unknown to them both.

But right now, Momota feels like crying. His plan to off himself from the world was ruined, his lovers there and looking at Momota with looks of pity, anger and sadness. As much as he loves them, he couldn't bear being a burden to them all.

Maybe he understood why Saihara had killed himself with an overdose of pills, leaving Kiibo.

"Momota, we're going to go home once you feel well", Akamatsu says, changing the subject. No, he will never be well. He'll always be damaged, and she understands that. She just wants to pretend to be alright, like always. Like him.

A few weeks or so he was back to his tiny little apartment he shares with Amami and Akamatsu after ensuring them that they didn't need to pull on his wheelchair. Momota was lying on his bed, basically immobile 'till someone offers to help him up his wheelchair. Some of their friends had visited them, scolding him and making small talk with Amami and Akamatsu.

"You're such an idiot, Momota", Harukawa says, sitting on the edge of his bed. The purple-haired man was staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore Harukawa's scolding. Maybe that was why they didn't work out. He didn't like people breathing out and into his neck.

"I know", he replies, still out of it.

"You want to be a second Saihara?"

Momota shrugs, not wanting to think about his friend. "Not really. I didn't choke on a bunch of pills, right?"

Harukawa glares at him, but Momota ignores it. He was known for his insensitivity in the game, and that was probably the things he shares with in-game Momota.

"Fuck you, Momota", the girl says sourly, standing leave. "I come here to see how you're doing, and you're being an asshole and brushing off Saihara's death? God, Kaito, you need to think before you act."

Thankfully, Harukawa leaves, leaving him alone in his bed, with the covers drawn up at him. Due to his state, Amami had no choice but ask Akamatsu to accompany him to the bars and pubs in the city. He could almost see Akamatsu watch in horror as Amami downs himself in alchoholic ecstasy. After a few hours of nothing but accompanied by silence, the front door opens, and he hears loud footsteps: one seems to be slow, like it was carrying something heavy, and the other one was quite noisy, stamping around like some kind of drunkard. Momota knows that Akamatsu and Amami has returned home.

Someone opens the door, and Momota looks to see Akamatsu holding a drunk Amami by the shoulders. The man was half-asleep already, but his eyes lands on Momota and he smiles brightly. He stumbles out of the blonde girl's arms and lands on the bed, grinning at the purple haired boy. His breath reeked of alchohol, but that was normal for Momota, it seems.

"Your eyes are beautiful, you know?", Amami breathes, looking at him with that mesmerized look. Amami drunk is the only time he's ever get to show his true emotions, but the former spaceman did not mind. "It's like, the vast space we live in. It's so pretty, even the stars can't compete to you. But a _river_ can."

Momota looks at him for a moment, while Akamatsu sits right at the edge of the bed, watching how it goes. She has never seen or listened to the green-haired boy when he starts to ramble, so maybe she finds this interesting. Momota marvels Amami's beauty, the darkness of the night illuminating his face and long hair.

"I was looking everywhere for you, Momota", Amami climbs towards the bed until he was inches away from the other's face. Momota's heart stops for a moment as he looks at the boy's face, who was smiling like a madman. "We were lucky that we found some paramedics near the river you drowned, and saw your face! Then again, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Amami's eyes glint angrily, something Momota sees a lot. But it was more like a hurt anger, even through his drunken state. "I'm a fucking asshole, and so are you, Momota. We don't even deserve Akamatsu, the best of women."

"N-no", Akamatsu stammers out. "I love you both."

Amami sighs, turning over to lie on his back. "I still don't get why you'd like us, out of all the people you met in Danganronpa."

"We're the worst." Momota agrees, nodding his head. "Kinda punched this asshole after provoking me for the hundreth time."

"Which I deserved." Even in his hazy state, the green haired boy felt compelled to show remorse and regret for the many things he'd done. "I drink to forget shit, but I always remember."

"It _is_ true", Akamatsu replies. She sits nearer to Momota. "Both of you hurt each other, and in the end, that hurts me too."

"Why are we even discussing this shit before _Christmas' Eve_?", Amami wonders, seemingly back to the drunk state. "Like... we're supposed to be wrapping presents on our Christmas Tree, y'know?"

"We don't have a Chirstmas tree", Momota points out, and Amami responds with a drunken frown.

"That sucks."

The blonde girl next to the purple-haired man hums contently, wrapping her arms around both men, making them feel content and warm. She's always had that aura, which was why they think they don't deserve this woman in their lives.

Cold wind blows throughout the room, due to the season changes. Akamatsu breaks the hug as she shivers all over. Amami, on instinct, drapes a blanket all over them. Momota feels warmth on his body, but mostly on his heart, with the two people he loves the most in the world.

He still feels it was a wasted opportunity when he had failed to take his life from the river, its turbulent currents marred in his mind, even if he tries to sleep them away.


End file.
